Sentimental Thrill
by Sealink
Summary: Lex finds herself six months out from the incident in Antarctica, when Scar comes back. Sequel to Sacrifice Theory by Solain Rhyo giftfic. PWP, oneshot. Rated for sexual situations.


**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** _This is a birthday fic for Solain Rhyo, one of my dearest friends. It is a "sequel" to the first ending of her fabulous AVP fiction Sacrifice Theory; if you have not finished that work, I highly advise that you do not read this, as some of the plot will be ruined for you. _

_Please be advised: this is smut, better known as "Plot? What Plot?" It contains sexual acts and you should not read them if you do not meet the requirements of your state/country/province to view adult material._

_If you like this, check out my other AVP fiction and leave reviews, as it boosts my ego._

_/shameless plug_

**xXx**

He was here.

The air was slightly chill, crisp with the promise of a Minnesota spring morning, and unseasonably warm. April still bore some of the signs of frost, but the grass was the new-leaf green of spring and buds were beginning to show themselves. The color itself tore me in twain, for only recently had I come to recognize it as something else: blood.

The Piper Maru and her crew, haunted by the devastating loss of her purpose, had drifted silently back into port a few weeks later. The remaining executives on Weyland Industries' board were already having to defend against hostile takeover threats from other military manufacturers. I was told that I was free to go, but that I might be expected to be summoned to speak about the incident. That was 6 months ago and I haven't heard a word from them since. I had heard the takeover didn't go through, but I didn't really care.

In the months after my time with Scar, Tank and Scale, I had undergone something of a transformation. Much of the meaning in my life had vanished with them; for what seemed like an eternity I had walked with them and together we had hunted the things that caused us so much grief. Scar had hunted his chimaera, the dragon born from his gut. I had hunted Reed, that man who I despised above all else. And without the Hunt, without Scar, my life had lost a lot of its sheen.

I had done some foolish things in the time since then, in an effort to get my life back on track. I had shorn my hair close to my chin, unable to bear the way the wind plucked at it the way Scar did. I tried free soloing, climbing high-altitude rock faces without safety harnesses, and nearly killed myself in the process. But it didn't make me whole. I always felt my thin cotton shirt rubbing against the bubbled flesh on my arm, as if my skin there had grown more, instead of less, sensitive. The matching mass of scars on my back was equally unsightly. My brief attempt to take things up with my boyfriend upon my return had resulted in a meltdown of our relationship. We'd stopped speaking weeks ago.

So here I was, on a scenic, secluded ranch. The payment from Weyland had afforded me the small luxury of taking a few months off, and I was taking full advantage of that. The isolation out here soothed me, as isolation always did, but what I wanted more than anything right now was company. That's how I knew he was here; sometimes you hope that longing for something will bring it back, and sometimes you're not surprised when it does.

I was sitting on a hillside, watching the clouds trail their fingertips over the mountains in the distance. A step behind me brought me to my feet; I still was not able to tolerate surprises after the weeks of nervous tension in Antarctica. When I turned, I saw that telltale glimmer in the air, and I knew that one of them was here. The sudden appearance of the company I'd been hoping for had sent my heart into my throat; suddenly, I was cursing my 'good fortune' and wondering why I'd bothered thinking about him in the first place.

The invisibility melted off like quicksilver, and indeed, it was him. He looked much the same, although I was pleased to see that he had fewer bulletholes than before. He bore few reminders of our sojourn, though they were there; I could see the places I'd packed gel into him in that cold cavern all those weeks ago, where I'd first allowed myself to admit what I felt for him; a kind of grudging affection that the months had only turned into a dull ache in my chest.

"Did you forget something?" He stepped forward and my heart thundered in my ears at his nearness. For so long, I'd hoped to have him close to me again, although now that I had him, I wasn't entirely sure what to do with him. He reached up and curled his fingers through my short hair, and I could sense he was disappointed at not having any more hair to tug. He managed to wind a lock of it around one digit and pull gently, and I smiled at the familiarity of the gesture.

"I'll see you later." It was Ana's voice, from all those months ago, played out into the Minnesota wilderness. He had known I would be expecting him. And although I hadn't quite trusted him to come back, I had always expected him to. "You're late, tiger." He cocked his head to the side and I was inwardly thrilled to see that familiar pose again. He watched me for a moment, and I found myself wishing I could see those familiar eyes behind that cold and impersonal metal mask. I moved so I was next to him, and then sat down, feeling the warming sun on my face.

He rapped me on my head with his knuckles and I looked up at him, squinting against the pale sun. He eased down next to me, leaning back on his elbows. His armor was light; he wore little in the way of acid protection. What, did you think he was going to find some of those things here? I could see the paleness of his scars where I'd packed gel into him in those cold caverns. How long ago that seemed, how far away from these hills and trees. The sunlight lit his body strangely, and I realized I had never seen him in such direct light before. His muscles stood out in even higher definition in the almost garish light. I gained a new appreciation for his strength when I saw it on display like this.

A soft rumble brought my attention away from his body. That mask, so severe and unforgiving, seemed out of place in the softness of the surrounding wilderness. I half-reached for him, to unfasten his air hoses and remove his mask, but he had already anticipated my motion. He sat up on his knees and unfastened the tubes which kept his mask free of condensation, and removed it. His face was still ugly, but I had long ago lost any of my reservations about Scar. The moments we stole in the ice caves were real to me, and I didn't regret them. Even looking at his face now, I didn't regret them. I had to accept him whole, as both someone different and someone the same. I couldn't just cut out what I didn't like; regardless of his origin, he had always given me deference and been forgiving in the face of my flaws. If he, who one could successfully argue was a monster, could hand out forgiveness, how could I condemn any part of him?

I reached toward him and gently traced the mark on his forehead where the alien's acid blood had made him a Warrior. His eyes closed and he stilled. I traced the mark over and over, smoothing it with the broad part of my thumb, and then letting my hand drift down the side of his face. It rested on his cheek; I could feel the muscles under his mandibles tensing, nearly shaking. I touched the flap of skin that mirrored my cheek and made the same motions, the same marks, the same ancient symbol. His eyes opened and again I was captured by his amber gaze. His massive hand crept up and he held it over mine, my warm smooth skin encased in his rough touch. We exchanged more than words in that glance, and I again realized that always, he let me make the decisions, he let me show where he might go. I had never appreciated his respect more than now, when I was alone with him, and I could let my thoughts wander uninterrupted by gunfire or combat.

My Hunter basked in the sun; he was not wearing the mesh of heating wires he had required in Antarctica, and his flesh looked more plain for it; I half-missed the impromptu fishnets, as I thought they gave him a bit of a kinky side. As if he wasn't kinky enough. "You came back," I said suddenly, before I could stop myself. He grunted, sitting up and pushing himself to a standing position. I hurriedly got up after him. Was he leaving again?

He cocked his head sideways at me again and his low rumble of amusement told me that I was silly to expect anything else of him. And I was. Since I had met this remarkable ... dare I call him a man?...he had never betrayed my trust. I reached for his hand and took it in my own, marveling at how it dwarfed mine. I held it up, palm to palm with mine, my slender fingers overshadowed by his massive paw. His clawed fingers closed over mine, and held me fast. I looked at him, to find that steady gaze watching me again, and I saw that even now, he was letting me choose.

I stepped forward then, closing the distance between our bodies and slid my arm around his torso. My forehead came to rest on his chest and without even putting my ear against it, I could hear his that satisfied rumble in his chest. Slowly, I bent my enclasped arm around my back and placed his hand at the small of my spine. His fingers pressed against me, and then fell away. He took my shoulders and turned me around, his gaze on the small of my back. His hands slid up my sides, rolling my shirt up, exposing my dusky skin to the spring wind. I shivered and tried to turn around, but he growled softly and slid his hands around to the front of my body, lifting my arms high. My heart was already racing and it felt like it was nearly going to burst. His fingertips traced sizzling lines up the front of my stomach, and when they curled around the sides of my breasts, I closed my eyes. Back went his hands, under my arms and across my shoulder blades, his thumbs tucking underneath the shirt and lifting it up over my head. He knelt behind me, and I felt him touch the scars from the alien's blood. I looked over my shoulder at him, suddenly self-conscious. Not at being half-naked in his presence, but just the old familiar fear that damaged goods were ones not worth keeping. His soft clicking caught my attention and I wondered what he was thinking- were scars good on women? Were they signs of respect or beauty? He leaned forward, and I felt two small points against my skin, and his hot breath between them. They moved up, twin spots of heat, and as they reached my neck, a small moan wheezed from my throat without my bidding. He stilled in my hair for a moment and his soft purr rose again. Finally, he stood fully upright behind me, moving close, and his skin was fevered, so much so that I did not mind the early spring breeze.

I let my arms fall and my shirt landed in a soft heap in the grasses. I turned slowly and looked at him, my eyes searching his alien face for clues toward his feelings, but he remained inscrutable. After long moments, he reached up and stroked the mark on my cheek with the back of his finger, his head tilting as he did so. I leaned into his touch, reaching up to hold his hand against my skin. He regarded me silently, and didn't move those stoic eyes from me. "Scar," I began, "I don't usually do this on the third date." My voice was shaky; what I was admitting to was something I still couldn't say directly; there are no words for it. I didn't know if he called it making love or fucking or whatever, but it was a feeling, a desire that I couldn't ignore. It had remained with me since that time together in the caves, when he'd held me close and I hadn't minded. When he'd consoled my aching humanity after Reed's death. When he'd said goodbye. Scar accepted me as I had him, warts and all, as my mother would say. "Hold me," I asked. And his arms, those great arms that both killed and protected, came down around me like steel bands that would never ever let me go.

I felt safe in his arms, safe from everything, and I turned my lips to his skin and kissed his chest. He looked down at me, a soft note of inquisition in his trill. I couldn't resist a small jab. "You're a Warrior, Scar, but are you a man?" He might have known what it meant, he might not. Either way, he growled, and it sounded like a tease. He picked me up, ignoring my shrieks and laughter and stretched me out on the cool grass. My skin had already gone flush with goosebumps ages ago; his proximity kept them in high relief. When he reached out and drew designs with one nail on my stomach, it sent an electric surge through all my pleasure centers, and in spite of how wrong I might have once believed it to be, it never felt so right.

He seemed interested in my breasts; he lifted one from its resting place to the side, moving it to center and watching it fall back into place again. I watched his fascination with a smirk, but couldn't stifle a gasp when he painfully twisted my nipple. I instinctively batted his hand away, giggling at his indignant snarl. "That hurt, you know," I half-chuckled. It hadn't been all that unpleasant, but boundaries had to be set. He smoothed over the offended nipple with the flat of his fingers and I smiled at him. His exploration continued further down, and he tugged aside my pants and panties with little fanfare, pulling them off and tossing them over his shoulder. "Get right to the point, don't you?" I asked, but I was already beginning to breathe faster. He purred softly, reaching out one finger to plumb the dense triangle of curls between my legs.

At the merest suggestion of touch, I felt my body respond; my legs widened for him and I lifted my hips up. The instinctual response that orchestrated this movement had no idea what was initiating it; if it had known, it might have refused to do anything at all. But Scar was pleased with the response such a limited touch had brought. He purred softly at me again and then reached further down, sliding his finger between my labia. I pushed my head back further into the grass and lifted my hips up further. Did he have any idea what that felt like? Could he know how sensitive I was? I lifted my head back up, watching him as he watched me. His purr was constant, his eyes half-lidded, as if he himself gained pleasure from watching me. His finger dipped lower, tracing along the inside of me and rubbing in the most maddening and deliberately slow circles. I moaned and lifted my hips suddenly, trying to take in more of that delicious sensation.

Scar laughed at me, and it sounded much more carefree here than it had in that godforsaken temple. He withdrew his touch and clicked softly at me. "You're a tease," I said accusingly, still trying to catch my breath. He chuckled softly again, that clicking purr of his and I felt vengeful. "Alright, two can play at that." I slid close to him, tucking my hand underneath his propped-up knee and drawing it back toward his thigh. In the clear light I could see his stomach muscles tense and I smiled. I drew my hand up between his legs, brushing a growing bulge with the back of my hand. A low rumble crept out of him and I heard his breathing catch. I fumbled with his loincloth and he pushed my hands out of the way impatiently, removing the constrictive hide.

"Scar, I take back what I said about you being a man." Scar was obviously a man, and he leaned back, tucking his arms behind his head. I got the distinct impression he was satisfied with the look on my face. Undaunted by the task before me, I leaned forward and dragged my breasts across him, watching the lines in his neck pull taut as he lifted his head to watch me. I reached between my legs and gathered some of my own moisture. He moaned when I wrapped my wet hand around him, and it was an animal sound, a guttural noise that called to something inside me and begged for me to throw caution to the wind. I stroked him slowly, watching his hands clench harder, and the cords in his neck go slack and tight as he alternately watched and couldn't watch. When his head was back and his eyes were closed in pleasure, I leaned down and flicked my tongue over the tip of his erection.

He roared and sat bolt upright, taking my upper arm painfully in his fist. His eyes were wild and desperate, and I could tell by the whimpers that touched the ends of his ragged breaths that he'd had enough. He wanted me, and God help me, I wanted him back.

He touched my hip and pulled me roughly to my knees, moving behind me. I could still hear his breathing, so uneven, so unlike the calm Hunter he had been in the face of death. I knew that this was a large step for both of us. It wasn't so much an expression of trust; we'd trusted each other with our lives in Antarctica. This was more of an expression of desire, and for us to admit that desire and do this forbidden act together and accept the consequences was the most proof of his trust that I would ever need. I pressed my breasts into the grass and presented myself to him. With his size, he would need all the access to my body that it was in my power to grant.

He leaned forward, pressing into me. At first my body resisted, and when he finally pushed past the resistance, he sank deep inside and I gasped at the pain. I felt skewered at first, so full I couldn't move, but as Scar began to move inside me, he was making some of my most tender parts ache with sensation and the pain became secondary. I reached under my stomach, fumbling between my legs for that small spot of pleasure that I knew would push me over the edge. Scar had already begun to move more rapidly, and inspite of my being stretched wide, the pain of his size was fading. His hand had been resting on my back, but as he began to move faster, he held my hips steady with both hands. I moaned long and low, and felt Scar's answering rumble thrum through our joined bodies. His motions had become less rushed and more powerful, pushing with enough force to knock me off balance. My own pleasure was peaking, and I closed my eyes so tight that spots bloomed. "Scar," I moaned, shivering and shaking as my muscles released their pent-up tension. His rumbles and clicks became groans on the end of ragged breaths, the groans becoming roars as his thrusts grew deeper and more erratic. He went rigid and ground himself against me, and I felt a warmth spreading inside me. He pushed again, seating himself deeper and remaining there, pressing his chest to my back. His dreadlocks fell over his shoulders, and they moved gently as his breathing puffed out of him. He shifted his hips and withdrew, exhaling hard as he did so. I whimpered as he left me; the twin loss of his body and that intimate connection between souls made my heart ache.

He slid his hand underneath us, encircling my belly. He leaned back and sat in the grass, pulling me with him. I felt his solid chest behind my back, and his head settled over my right shoulder. His tusks were drawing small circles on my skin, and his purr was strong in my ear. I smiled, letting my hand drift down and cover his. I knew that he would have to leave, possibly even soon, but for the moment- just for this moment- I let his presence drive off all my doubts and fears, and I closed my eyes against the world and existed only for him.


End file.
